Tempting the Law Page 4

  "Aye, lass. Sure ‘n you can be the queen bee and I'll pretend to be your drone."

  She pressed her lips together and tried again not to burst out laughing when she heard him speaking in a Irish accent. “We're really going to do this?"

  "Aye, we are."

  She chuckled and walked forward with the jar of honey. Kneeling before him, Cathy drizzled some of the honey on the tip of his penis. She heard Ian gasp and, almost before her eyes, his penis seemed to extend past the end of the bun.

  Ian kept the kilt up and watched as she took her index finger and gently spread the honey over the tip of his erection. He swallowed hard and waited for her to slowly repeat the process and put the small jar of honey aside. For a few minutes she seemed intrigued with spreading the honey over the tip of his manhood and holding the bun in place so he could keep the kilt up. “Hurry, Cat,” he urged.

  "Not until I'm ready."

  Ian rolled his eyes in frustration. But the intense pleasure soon had him enjoying the entire scenario. Cat was before him, the beautiful gown very low on her shoulders. He could see her cleavage by looking down the front of her costume, but her nipples were magnificently erect through the thin fabric of the gown. He'd have loved to stroke her shoulders and urge her mouth onto him, but his hands were still busy holding up the long length of plaid he wore. “Why don't I ditch the kilt?” he gasped out.

  "No. I like it."

  "Take me in your mouth."

  She smiled up at him. “I guess you're ready."

  Ian moaned loudly when she finally began to tease him with her tongue, licking off the honey as she did so. He hadn't really expected her to do anything with the bread, but Cat began to actually eat it. There was a fear that she might bite him at the same time as she took off chunks of the bread, but that anxiety was kind of electrifying.

  Cat finally finished then took his entire length into her mouth.

  Ian thrust forward very slightly.

  She heard him cry out her name. At least, she heard him cry out the shortened pseudonym he was using at the moment.

  On and on she went until Ian knew he was nearing release. And the way she squirmed in front of him, he was sure she was needing attention the same as he. “Grab a condom by the bed. Quick."

  Cathy turned, did as he asked and handed him the packet. She watched as he tore it open with his teeth, slid it on to his erection, then roughly pulled her up.

  He walked her backward toward the bed. She willingly collapsed on it when the backs of her knees came in contact with the soft bed cover. “Leave the gown on,” he instructed.

  Cat nodded, panting in anticipation. She pulled the handkerchief hem of the gown up, lifted her legs and spread them.

  Ian wanted nothing more than to sink deep into her and have that shimmering green material float around them both as they made love. But first, he wanted her to know what she'd done to him. He wanted to do the exact same to her. With the obvious differences in their extremities, he'd have to come up with something inventive.

  Glancing over his shoulder at the cart, he saw some butter pats lying on a plate. He reached toward the cart and pulled the entire thing toward him. Grabbing one of the small squares of butter, he pulled the paper off and began to carefully rub it on the inside of her thighs. “Don't move or you'll get this stuff all over that beautiful gown."

  Cathy tried not to move, as he instructed, but the butter was warm and melting on her thighs. “Hurry."

  Ian waited until the butter had almost dripped to the juncture of her thighs. He quickly lowered his head and began to lick as much of it away as he could.

  She arched off the bed, placed her legs over his shoulders and clutched at the bedspread. “Ohhhh, that's good."

  He heard her begin to beg. She cried out his name over and over and thrust her hips up to meet his tongue. And when he felt she couldn't last any longer, Ian positioned himself and thrust into her. For a split second, he hesitated. Her body closed around him like a tight, warm glove. Sheathed deep within her, he finally began to thrust. And he remembered she liked it slow and deep.

  Cathy writhed beneath him, plunged her hands into his dark hair and felt his breath against her cheek. “So good ... it's so good..."

  "I know, baby. You're perfect,” he responded and plunged into her a little faster.

  Cathy clutched his shoulders as a deep, rolling release began at the back of her vagina and moved forward with greater speed and intensity.

  Ian could actually feel her tightening around him and her convulsions brought him to release only seconds after she cried out his name. He kept thrusting until they were both spent and the orgasm was completely gone.

  She pulled him to her and cradled his head against her shoulder.

  Ian could feel the deep rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. He suddenly realised he was also breathing hard and there was a fine sheen of sweat over his torso. The kilt he wore was well up around his waist and back and he could imagine this was the way one of his Celtic ancestors had taken his woman. He eventually pulled out of her, discarded the condom in a nearby waste basket and stared down at her. “I've never been this way with a woman. You know ... wild and crazy. Using food and everything."

  "I've never been this way with a man."

  "Since we have the costumes on, why don't we try something else?"

  Cathy smiled up at him and nodded.

  Ian moved backward until his feet were on the floor. He took Cat's hands and pulled her up so she was standing in front of him. “Let's do a little role playing. Afterward, we can ring up for some dessert if you want to."

  She nodded and let him lead her toward the food cart.

  Role Playing—3:30 p.m.

  Ian positioned the cart in the centre of the room. Then, he placed two chairs on either side of it and motioned for Cat to sit down. When she did so, he uncovered some of the other foods hidden under small silver domes. Fruit, cheeses and anti-pasta were situated on various trays. “We were so busy with the bread, we didn't get a look at the rest of the food."

  Cathy surveyed the feast as he opened a bottle of wine which was cooling on the end of the cart. She sipped some after he handed her a glass, reached for a grape, and was just about to pop it into her mouth when he stopped her by holding on to her hand.

  "We feed each other. I'm the laird of yon castle.” He nodded at the castle painted on the far wall. “You're my captive. The daughter of a nobleman. And your father has to ransom you back. Before he does that, you have to please me.” He raised his eyebrows to see if she approved of the scenario.

  Cathy was grinning like a snake but couldn't help it. She bowed her head and put the grape back on the plate. “As you wish, your lordship. Is that the right title?"

  He smiled and shrugged. “Don't know, but it sounds good to me.” He cleared his throat and put one hand to his bare chest. “I hope you don't mind my dining half-dressed, milady. But ‘tis necessary to see to your welfare before finding garments suitable for the occasion."

  Cathy thrust her chin up. “I wouldn't take food from my captor even if it meant starving."

  Good, he thought. She was getting into the game splendidly. “Ah, a saucy wench. But you'll eat soon enough when you see the delights my cook has prepared. And I'm sure you're quite famished after having been abducted from ... where are you from?” he asked.

  "Ireland. I'll be from Ireland,” she quickly proposed.

  "Yes ... Ireland. Your trip from Ireland must have been strenuous, sweet lady. I know you'll want to join me as soon as your appetite overcomes you."

  "Never!” she vehemently denied and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Ian could almost see one of her ancestors in the role she was playing. Her green eyes were flashing and he could imagine just such a scene being enacted for real, hundreds of years earlier. “Not only will you eat, fair lady. You'll feed me before this night is done. And love doing it."

  Cathy dramatically put the back of o
ne wrist to her forehead. “You tax me, sir. First, you take me from my home and family. Now you expect me to dine with a villain. A fiend with lustful appetites and scheming plots."

  "Nay, lady. You take me wrong. I am Laird Ian of ... of that castle.” He pointed toward the castle on the wall.

  "And what's the name of yon castle, Sir Villain?” Trying not to laugh, Cathy knew she had him stumped. His expression indicated he was already struggling to make something up.

  Ian thought for a moment. “It's ... it's the castle of Doom."

  Cathy melodramatically put her hands to her face. “By all the saints! Not the castle of Doom?"

  "Aye, the very same. And you will be my mistress this night. You will feed me, and I'll feed you. Moreover, you'll like it all and beg me to take you."

  She dropped her head, took her lower lip between her teeth and pretended to be highly offended and embarrassed.

  "Come, my lady. Eat this grape."

  Cathy turned her head away and pretended to refuse.

  Ian got up, walked around the table and knelt by her chair. He lifted the soft strands of her hair that had come loose during their recent lovemaking. Softly, he blew against the nape of her neck.

  Cathy shuddered at the warmth of it. And when his lips barely touched her there, she wanted to turn her head and kiss him. When she made the small movement, her mouth was open and he quickly put a grape into it.

  "Eat,” he commanded.

  Chewing the grape slowly, she wanted nothing more than to lean toward his muscular frame, put her hands around his neck and kiss him senseless. Right now, he was bringing a small piece of warm bread to her lips. His fingers placed the offering there, and she took it and his fingers between her lips. Sucking gently, she took the bread and managed to force a sensuous moan from him at the same time.

  "Now, you feed me,” he softly ordered.

  She picked up a grape, placed it to his lips and watched as he took the fruit and her fingers into his mouth. He was repeating what she'd just done to him.

  "Do you like that, my lady?"

  "Yeah ... sure ... it's great,” she mumbled while staring at the full sensuous lips which had just wrapped around the grape. Then her gaze drifted up to his eyes. “You have the darkest blue eyes I've ever seen. It's like looking at midnight-blue velvet."

  Ian tried to ignore the soft sweetness in her voice, leaned toward her and brushed his lips against hers. “Feed me something else."

  Cathy reached for a small roll of ham. She placed one end of it against his lips and watched as he pulled the treat into his mouth with his tongue. “My captor has a nice mouth."

  "My captive has a nice everything,” he declared, picking up a strawberry and letting it linger against her lips. Before she could take it into her mouth, however, he pulled it just out of reach. “Take it from my mouth, milady."

  When he put half the large berry into his mouth, Cathy didn't hesitate in placing her lips against his and nibbling until her half of the fruit was consumed. But their lips remained together and his kiss became hot, deep, wet and very wild. “I think you've convinced me of your sincerity, milord. Whatever you want, I'll do,” she murmured against his lips.

  Ian stood up and pulled her into his embrace when she did the same. “No more games, Cat. I want you again. For real. I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you."

  She clung to him as he lifted her up and walked toward the bed. He quickly helped her out of the gown and she unbuckled the wide, brown leather belt holding up his kilt. “I don't think I have much time left this afternoon."

  "I know. Let's just do this for us. Okay, Cat?"

  She nodded and stretched out on the bed. When he took her this time, it was slow, sensual and sweet. Almost all the condoms were gone from the small bowl on the telephone stand. She lay there, panting in his arms and holding him tightly. That was when the phone rang.

  Chapter Five

  End of the Fantasy?—4:30 p.m.

  Cathy stared at the phone and, for the first time in her life, she actually began to hate an inanimate object.

  "You'd better answer it,” he told her.

  She pushed back a stray stand of hair and lifted the receiver. “Yes?"

  "Hello, there. This is Monique. I wanted to know if everything met with your approval."

  "Yes. Everything was perfect,” she quietly answered and tried to blink back a sudden wash of tears.

  "As a complimentary gift, we'd like for you to keep your costume. It's a small memento of your day at Women's Pleasure, Inc. And we do hope you'll come again."

  "Thanks.” That was all she could summon in response.

  Monique continued. “We'll have the staff up to straighten your room in about half an hour. In the meantime, please feel free to fill out a comment card located in the basket by the phone. And thank you for allowing us to help fulfil your innermost fantasies."

  Cathy put the receiver down and slowly turned to face Ian. “The staff will be here to clean the room at about five o'clock."

  Ian took her right hand in his and noticed the small scars on her fingers again. “I wish this didn't have to end, Cat."

  "That's the way it is,” she softly replied. “I came here for fun and games. Now, my time's up, and so is yours.” She stood up, walked into the bathroom and prepared to clean herself up in preparation for leaving.

  Ian lay on the bed. If she'd wanted to tell him her secret, she'd had the chance. He was now faced with the choice of honouring her anonymity or letting her walk out of the room. When he heard the bath water running, Ian stood up and put his kilt back on. This day wasn't supposed to have ended with him feeling like someone very important was about to walk out of his life. Someone who could mean a great deal more than the hot, wild sex they'd shared.

  He paced around the bed thinking of what he might say. He knew what she did for a living, but confronting her with the knowledge might not make Cat, or whatever her name really was, willing to see him again. In fact, telling her what he knew about her might make her walk away for good. And he'd remember this day for a very long time and hate not having her in his life. He was that sure of his feelings.

  Given the choice of letting her simply leave, or making her angry by telling her he knew she was a cop, Ian guessed the result might just be the same either way. But if he told her his identity, at least she'd be able to find him and contact him someday. He could hope for that. He now knew he wanted Cat in the worst way. She wasn't just sexy, beautiful, and willing to overcome what had been her initial anxiety. She was funny, energetic and had a great deal in common with him. She just didn't know it. But he vowed she was about to.

  After her quick bath, Cathy dressed, reapplied her make-up and brushed out her hair until it fell against her back in soft waves again. She didn't know if Ian, or whoever he was, would still be in the room beyond. Maybe it was better if he wasn't. She'd always wonder about him and her response to his lovemaking. Because that's what it had been. Not just sex in a fantasy bordello as Lisa had planned. Now, she was much less inhibited ... Lord only knew how much less. But she was also saddened beyond words. She'd never see Ian again. That was the way he wanted it and the way it had to be for her. She didn't want anyone ever finding out about today and using the experience as a source for rumour, innuendo and laughs.

  Nobody would ever understand the connection she'd made with the dark-haired, kilt-adorned stranger. Nobody would ever know but her. And that was the way it had to stay. But it was entirely ironic that the man on the other side of the bathroom door was exactly who she'd secretly desired in her fantasies. Still, even if the mutual privacy issue wasn't an obstacle, he'd likely do what all the other men she'd grown fond of had done and make for the nearest exit once he found out she was a cop. Either the job was too dangerous for them to handle, or the woman in such an occupation was too independent. And, as she'd told Lisa, dating policemen in her own division wasn't an option.

  To her practical mind, there was nothing worse than having to
see the same man at work that you'd slept with the night before. Others with whom she worked had tread that same path and she'd seen the devastating effects. No. Walking out the door and out of this building without a backward glance was the only way to end this. That was the way the other patrons of the bordello handled things, and since she'd been foolish enough to come here, she might as well leave like others did. Just close the door and catch a cab home. Problem was, she feared her feelings weren't just going to drift away after Lisa paid the bill. She'd be thinking of Ian for a very long time to come.

  When she walked out of the bathroom, Ian was standing there dressed as he had been when she'd first seen him. But there was a look on his face that was puzzling.

  "If you'll give me minute to go to the room where my clothes are, I'll change out of this kilt and walk you to your car."

  "I came in a cab. There's no need for you to walk me downstairs. I can take care of myself.” She looked down at the fairy gown which was carefully folded and hanging over her forearm. It would, as Monique said, be a nice memento. “The manager said I could keep this. Will they let you keep your kilt?"

  "Yeah. She said I could before I ever met you."

  Cathy nodded and held out her hand. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Ian. I hope things go well for you in the future."

  He didn't take the hand, but crossed his arms over his chest. “I can't just let you leave like this."

  "You don't have much of a choice."

  Cathy withdrew her hand and walked toward the door.

  "My name is James Ian Murphy. I'm a homicide detective at the Fifty-Seventh Precinct."

  Cathy wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. She slowly turned around and stared at him.

  "Tell me your real name,” he insisted and slowly walked toward her. He stopped when he was only a few inches away.